


Clearly

by woahimi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel/Demon, Cafe AU, Dancing, Gavotte, M/M, the waltz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 03:59:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19143127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woahimi/pseuds/woahimi
Summary: Crowley decides to create his own café just to give a certain angel competition, however the creation of such leads elsewhere.





	Clearly

He hammered the last nail into the final letter. By miracle, it was a bright night and the neighbours in the area were in such a deep slumber that they heard none of his racket. He smirked at his work, marvelling at it from across the street. It was exactly to his tastes: rich mahogany wood, the colour scheme of burgundy and black, all with a modern touch. He hated to be reminded of the other boring periods of time he had lived through. It was only when a door smacked him on the side of the head that he remembered angels don't sleep.

"Crowley! What are you doing out at such a time?" exclaimed the angel, slipping out and closing the door of his bookshop behind him. Crowley held his head in pain. 

"First ouch, thanks," he replied sourly, rubbing his head. The angel patted his head gently and suddenly the pain was elevated with a hint of euphoria added to it, which made the demon shudder.

"Secondly..." he gestured to his finished masterpiece. A newly constructed cafe just opposite A.Z Fell and Co, on the corner of the street as well. The bricks were painted a glossy black with walnut pillars that mimicked the style of the bookshop. Outside sat four sets of small wooden tables under a burgundy striped awning. Since the outside was given the modern twist of all glass walls, you could see the inside of which was furnished with matte black walls, deep mahogany counters and tables, as well as signed Queen posters hanging on the walls alongside signed guitars and a... jukebox. 

In black wooden lettering on a mahogany board it boldly stated: “Crows Café... good alliteration ain’t it.” 

“Isn’t... and yes,” Aziraphale corrected, tilting his head. “Why though?” 

“To give ya a little competition. I wanted to see whether the people prefer a sleek new café to a dusty bookshop,” he teased, taking a large exaggerated step towards it. 

“Clearly those two things are completely different you see... if I wanted food I would go to a shop that sells food,” Zira explained, following after him. “However if I wanted a book, I would go to a bookshop.”

“Yeah yeah but it’s about the creativity really. I could sell books like you and still have a better business. How long have you kept that style for?” he clicked his fingers and the equipment he was using disappeared, along with the streets being cleaned up. 

He straightened up even more. “Since I opened in... the nineteenth century.” 

Crowley huffed, slouching and turning back to him with a thumbs down. “Lameeee, the people want something new!”

“Lame?” he mumbled softly as the demon gestured for him to enter. As they moved inside the lights snapped on, illuminating the café with neon lights and, at the flick of a finger, the jukebox began to play Queen. Aziraphale glanced around with his usual face of confusion as the demon began to dance. 

He held a hand out for the angel. “Come on!”

“I don’t think I should... I mean we are-”

“An angel and a demon yeah yeah we get it. It’s only one night,” Crowley complained, jumping onto one of the tables, his hands on his hips, staring down at the nervous mess of an angel below. He twiddled his fingers before muttering something.

“Hmm, what was that?” He held out an ear in exaggeration. 

“I can’t dance,” Zira said quietly. The demon jumped to another table effortlessly with a smile.

“You specifically took the time to learn the gavotte in the nineteenth century.”

The angel fell quiet, still fiddling with his fingers awkwardly. Crowley huffed once more, setting out Queen in replacement for a Gavotte in D. He sprung to the ground and hooked Aizraphale’s arm. 

“Well then, lead us.” 

And so he did; with no hesitation and on command, he threw one leg into the air and bounced to one side. Crowley stumbled, attempting to catch up as they departed and Aziraphale began to dance in his own before joining back to him with the swift slide of feet and wild arm movements. Soon though, the demon caught on and they continued to dance, the odd giggle catching in their throats. 

As the angel finished, Crowley watched from the side. His eyes shut calmly, he slide across the wooden floors of the café with a huge smile plastered across his usually neutral face and ended with jazz hands. He opened his eyes once more as the jukebox cut off, panting as though it was possible for him to be out of breath. Crowley applauded him with a grin.

“Told ya.” 

Aziraphale slid into one of the seats near him. “Usually angels don’t have a sense of dance. I assume I am the first.”

“Impressive,” he sat down with him. “Food?”

“No no... but some wine would be nice.” 

Crowley squinted at him. “Are you trying to show off your extensive wine collection again?”

He smiled, laying his hands on his lap. “Nooo.”

“Are angels capable of sarcasm and if so, was that it?” 

“No and no.”

With the click of his fingers, a fine wine from the seventeenth century appeared on the table alongside two wine glasses. “Germany actually. France isn’t the only country that was mildly enjoyable at that time.”

“Don’t really care,” he snarked, popping it open and pouring himself a glass. 

Before they knew it, they had gotten themselves drunk over a wide range of different wines of which all had particular tastes and fragrances that would have been noticeable if the demon hadn’t just downed them absentmindedly. He was soon up again, blasting Queen and jumping from every surface possible while Aziraphale watched on, sipping his own quietly. 

“I do know... one more dance,” he announced as the demon almost slipped over attempting to slide across the floor again. He bounced up at the angel, bringing their faces abnormally close.

“Really?” his snake eyes glowed with child-like excitement. Zira nodded and stood, moving into empty space. He held out a hand for Crowley. “I know the waltz.”

Suddenly the music snapped to a waltz symphony and the demon took the angels hand. He was pulled close, a hand placed on his waist and the other remained in his hand. Again, Aziraphale led the slow dance, directing the demon as to which foot he should move next. They were soon waltzing around the room in circles elegantly, much different from Crowley’s usual style of dance. He marvelled at how calmly the angel conducted himself even as he stumbled over their feet several times. His attention was then directed to his bright blue eyes, full of goodness and life - the opposite of his own of course. 

As they began to get into the dance, Zira closed his eyes once again and so Crowley followed until he felt a heaviness hit his chest. He opened one eye to find that the angel had brought them even closer and now rested his head on his chest. He didn’t stir as they swayed calmly. The fussy angel had seemed to forget who he was dancing with and so the demon did the honours of separating them by spinning him away. His eyes snapped open in shock, a rose colour tinting his cheeks as the demon pulled him in again.

“You seem to have forgotten. Don’t want you landing yourself in trouble, do we Angel?” he grinned, the music sharpening. 

“I uh-”he cleared his throat, as they continued to move in larger circles. “didn’t mean to- uh... Oh I am so sorry!” he departed the demon, now completely flushed. 

“Oh who cares!” exclaimed Crowley, grabbing his waist and pulling him into harsh embrace that soon softened as they both accepted it. 

Aziraphale parted them, keeping close to the demon. “We are going to be in so much troub-”

He was cut off by another long kiss. “Pfft. After all we’ve been though - who cares?”

Zira smiled between the kisses. “Clearly not us.”

**Author's Note:**

> woah this is my first good omens fanfic!  
> if u see this - hi katherine, u sneaky b


End file.
